


That I Might See With My Chest

by TotallyHuman



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Mute!Hero, PWP, Smut, underlyings of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyHuman/pseuds/TotallyHuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garth understands the dubiousness of the situation. The precarious foundation that these...indulgences, are built upon and that they, truly, are not well. Not for himself nor Sparrow. </p><p>But, by the Old Kingdom, Sparrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That I Might See With My Chest

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from "Fineshrine" by Purity Ring.
> 
> I will add more to this series, eventually. I doubt anyone really goes into this fandom much anyways anymore but oh well man

Garth understands the dubiousness of the situation. The precarious foundation that these...indulgences, are built upon and that they, truly, are not well. Not for himself nor Sparrow.

But, by the Old Kingdom, _Sparrow_.

The young male, or at least, younger than Garth - as Sparrow is world weary and grown in his own right - is gasping and riding Garth into the sheets of Sparrow’s tucked away Oakfield cottage. It’s a quaint, if dingy, little house that Sparrow seems to only use as a private place to stay for a night while passing through the village.

Sparrow grunts as he brings himself down onto Garth’s cock, teeth digging into his lower lip before raising himself up and repeating it. Garth allows a rumbling groan from himself as his eyes stray up Sparrow’s form - a lithe skeleton draped in muscle honed for speed and precision rather than brute force. And riddled with glowing lines of the magic contained within Sparrow, that Garth feels mingling with his own aura of will and clutching around his cock. Sometimes Garth nearly lost himself tracing over them. But not now.

Each loud, lewd smack of their skin meeting each second banishes every inkling of thought in their conceiving moment from Garth’s brain and he cants his hips up to catch Sparrow in mid-drop. Sparrow gasps and his fairly steady pace falters. Garth can feel the strain of the muscles in Sparrow’s thigh that he holds with his left hand, Sparrow’s waning stability making him resign to rutting down against Garth cock and trying to gain friction against his cock using Garth’s abdomen.

Sparrow grips the bed on either side of Garth’s head and lowers his head to the crook of Garth’s shoulders. Sparrow’s whole body quivers with the whine he let’s out, rocking with a weaker tremble. It all makes Garth’s arousal swell. Garth slides his hand up and grips Sparrow’s swollen, bobbing member in hand too and begins to pump in firm strokes from base to tip. Sparrow moans and pushed forward into Garth’s palm, lifting himself only an inch or so to continue riding Garth - though not very well. In this way, Sparrow speaks. Not with words, but with gestures and the occasional noise. Throughout their escapades Garth has become quite adept at understanding Sparrow’s language.

Please, is what Sparrow communicated. Garth knows well that Sparrow can hardly stand a slower pace in the heat of the moment. For some reason, Sparrow’s itch here requires a more harsh scratch. Surprising, given the brutal ways that most things come to Sparrow and an adjustment given the patience and meticulous way Garth prefers to take things… sometimes. The adjustment is not a hard one to accommodate in the end, for all Garth praises patience and self control, he can never deny Sparrow this. Garth isn’t sure he could deny Sparrow _anything_ , and that is dangerous in itself, Garth supposes.

Garth has never been particularly hungry for the primal urges of sex. More often than not preoccupied with studies. Not that he hasn’t on occasion give yield to the act. But it was never like this - with Garth enamoured with his partner, enthralled by them. Garth thinks that he could spend eternity like this, with Sparrow, fucking and wringing every mewling noise of bliss from the Hero as if they were made for it. For each other. And that’s an idea just barely fathomable, because Sparrow certainly looks - and feels - as if he wants to spend an eternity on Garth’s cock as well. And Garth suspects the bond that the circumstances, from sex to their destiny, has surpassed what it was supposed to be. Although if destiny tied them together like this...

“I have you,” Garth replies in a voice breathy and laden with arousal, parting his hold from Sparrow’s cock to take hold of his waist in both hands. With slight help from a force push and leverage, Garth has Sparrow on his back instead. Sparrow's chest glimmers with a sheen of sweat and some strands of his loose hair stick to his forehead.

Sparrow takes one of Garth’s hands in his own then and guides it to his face. Abiding by this, Garth trickles his fingertips across Sparrow’s cheek in a caress - simultaneously snapping his hips forward into Sparrow. The young man hisses and groans.

“Yes, you are being good.” Garth rumbles deeply as he looks Sparrow down. Another kink, contrasting of Sparrow’s fondness for an overwhelming - at times _punishing_ \- pace, is one for praise. Especially pet names. Garth believes it may have something to do with Sparrow’s lack of one, lost along with his sister. Garth immediately tries to shake the thought. It only ever drives home the cycle of questionability that is the… relationship, that he and Sparrow have cultivated. Sparrow beneath him like this - Sparrow, a child, strolling down a grand hall with a dead girl walking - Sparrow in rags looking up at Garth as he brushes past him, a child, without a second thought - not aware - _not aware_ -

Sparrow releases Garth’s hand again, he’s staring at Garth through lidded eyes with his face flushed and long hair a mess, looking debauched and vulnerable. The sight only continues to become more handsome to Garth, an unprecedented effect of their meetings.

Garth leans down, brushes his lips over the edge of Sparrow’s - the ghost of what little more pressure it would take to kiss Sparrow honestly. “Do you want more?” Garth already knows this answer, but it’s good to make Sparrow respond. Which Sparrow does, nodding his head and tilting his chin up - so close -

Garth obliges and presses his lips to Sparrow’s with gusto, all the while snapping his hips again and abruptly starting a hard, earnest pace, driving his cock into Sparrow without any more warning. And Sparrow keens, his cry muffled and swallowed by Garth as they kiss. Even Sparrow’s mouth is pleasantly plagued by the subtly crackling, sparking magic that his body continually ebbs with, like Garth’s.

After a handful of seconds Garth needs to breathe, and so does Sparrow. Garth sits back, pulling Sparrow against himself so that the male is slammed against Garth with each powerful thrust of his hips. Sparrow can barely catch his breath between each rapid-fire thrusts of Garth’s cock, the young man’s chest heaves unevenly and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself beneath what Garth is giving him, throwing his head back, strangled breaths and pants escaping but only barely. Garth is similarly affected, his world narrowed down to their fucking, the tight clench of Sparrow’s body as Garth breathes with hardship through clenched teeth.

But Garth tries to angle each thrust, searching for that special bundle of nerves inside of Sparrow. _Deeper_ and _harder_ and - ah, there it is -

Sparrow’s mouth parts with a choked sound, his expression broken - stricken as his body surges and curls in on itself as Garth continues to fuck into him at the right angle, hitting the sensitive spot within him over and over. Sparrow twists, curling and arching, moving in tandem with Garth with a little assistance. And each time Sparrow jolts a bit, overtaken. The sight of it melts through Garth’s head and chest and pools in his pelvis hotly.

Garth is close, he feels the orgasm building in the pit of his stomach. He can tell that Sparrow is too, the male’s huffs are as desperate as the movements of his body. One of Sparrow’s hands claw at Garth’s thigh, fingers digging into his side in an attempt to drag Garth closer like Sparrow is insatiable. Sparrow is _insatiable_. Garth groans and summons another surge of force to loosely push Sparrow up. Sparrow gasps in surprise but quickly catches on, allowing the action and clinging to Garth upright. Garth fucks into Sparrow with renewed strength, and with each impalement of his cock into the young man he can feel Sparrow’s own member rubbing against his stomach. Sparrow is a whining mess, his head lolled onto Garth’s shoulder and hands clawing at his back.

Garth barely has to snake a hand between their bodies and stroke Sparrow’s member before he’s coming in spurts between them with a sob that spills into Garth’s ears. Sparrow’s body tenses and the sensation overwhelms Garth, sending him over the edge too. Sparrow, spent, only mewls softly as Garth comes inside of him, riding out the aftershocks in gentle circular motions with Garth.

Quietness blankets them now, both men working on steadying their breathing in post-orgasmic ecstasy. The mind-numbing high of release pause was the only relief Garth found during their sessions before guilt rationalizing set in. It was subtle, Garth spread it out diplomatically in his mind, but he fears it is growing stronger than his ability to tame it. Garth tries to keep it under wraps long enough for Sparrow to fall asleep or for himself to leave, lately it’s more often the latter. Such an attitude is not one that Sparrow needs to witness.

Regardless of destiny, strength, skill, or will - Sparrow is but a man who has been through so very much. His hardships have had lasting effects if his and Garth’s arrangement is anything to go by, and he does not need another to underhandedly dog him the rest of his life as well. Garth wonders if it is actually avoidable. That is something to ponder later.

Sparrow moves against Garth, leaning back in Garth’s lap. Sparrow’s eyes linger on the space between them, unblinking and distant and faintly lost-looking. This, Garth also worries for. Sparrow is very aware, Garth knows, also in his own right. It’s difficult to predict just how much Sparrow has observed. Perhaps Garth has not well enough hid his doubts and guilt. Perhaps Sparrow has his own.

Garth decides to ponder his conscience on the matter later, when he can focus more clearly.

Sparrow sighs as he lifts off of Garth’s length and falls back onto the sheets. The next half an hour is spent cleaning themselves up. Afterwards Sparrow rolls onto the small bed in the corner of the room while Garth is up and wandered over to the table beside the poor, unused stove.

Across the table are scattered drawings, surprisingly acute in detail despite their messy style. They don’t look like any of Lucien’s old sketches - and Garth is sure Paige can barely draw a skeleton of a person. They’re Sparrow’s? The revelation is obvious but makes Garth’s brow furrow nonetheless as he scans over them with only half of his eyesight. They’re well done, messy, but detailed regardless. Scenery of Hero’s Hill, one of the statues from the Temple of Light, Paige leaned against a table with a drink - her lips distinctly curved into a smile, a girl - Garth takes a moment to come to the conclusion that it’s Rose. Her clothes are ragged, her hair done up in two ponytails with a headband. Garth recalls Rose so easily. The picture is shotty than the other work though, clearly done from an old, worn memory of Sparrow’s.

To think of how many other, arduous memories must obscure Rose in Sparrow’s mind, 10 years of mind numbing torture in the Spire, and the vague summaries Garth’s received of Sparrow’s quest before his own hand came into play. Maybe Sparrow is worried he’ll forget her.

And beneath that one -

Garth moves to slide it out from beneath the sketch of Rose.

It’s him. That is understandable. It’s Garth sleeping on a bed, naked with a small tangling of blanket between his legs and shadows cast over him from the fireplace crackling somewhere in front of them. Them, yes, of course this was when he was with Sparrow. A night when Garth resigned to sleep.

Although, Garth had always thought Sparrow nodded off before letting himself slip into unconsciousness.

Garth understands the dubiousness of the situation. More and more threads are spinning in Garth’s head about the repercussions of their relationship here. Garth isn’t fooling himself that it’s purely a physical drive - it never was. But is a bond like this is one Garth fears will become a burden, one that Sparrow will not need weighing upon him in the days Theresa has foreshadowed.


End file.
